


Live Music

by janescott



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: First Time, Fluff, M/M, Night Vale, Picnic, The Void
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 20:16:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janescott/pseuds/janescott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil and Carlos go to a picnic where there's live music. This is way fluffier than I thought it would be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Live Music

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing, clearly. I'll put the toys back when I'm done, I promise. Thanks to magenta for the beta :-)

"And sign here ... and here ... and initial the end of each page ... now, how likely is consummation, do you think?"

Carlos blinks at the member of the Sheriff's secret police and pushes a hand through his hair. It's testament to his past year or more living in Night Vale that he just stares for a moment. The questions are for his and Cecil's safety and well, Carlos is pretty invested in keeping Cecil safe.

"Um. Well, I'm not sure. It's our, uh ... sixth? official date? No, wait, fifth, because I forgot the paperwork for the sixth, and there was the uh, reprogramming. Got through the last season of the Walking Dead, but I think Cecil was a bit upset ..."

Carlos interrupts his own rambling and clears his throat, careful not to look at the policewoman's badge, which has crawled up on to her shoulder and is emitting a small, intermittent hissing noise.

"Shall we tick the possible consummation box then? Fifth date, picnic in the park, concert ..." She rolls her hand vaguely as if to suggest these things could lead to, well, er - and Carlos nods, realising vaguely that well, yes, there are still some things in Night Vale that can make him blush.

"Er, yes, thanks, that should cover all bases without being, um, presumptive."

She nods, and Carlos ticks the relevant boxes on the form, double-checking he's done everything right this time. Not that the reprogramming was essentially awful, but he'd rather be in his own lab, working, than idling away underground watching TV.

Or, well, exploring possible consummation with Cecil. Carlos smiles to himself as he hands the forms back, careful to keep his fingers away from her badge, which has moved from her shoulder to the collar of her shirt. It's still hissing occasionally, and Carlos knows from experience it can wield a nasty sting.

"Right. Good. We're nearly done." She scans over the forms and smiles as she hands over a baseball bat that has sigils carved into the wood.

"Ceremonial bat," she explains. "Live music in Night Vale can get a bit ... well, lively if you know what I mean."

Carlos doesn't, exactly, but he takes the bat and studies the sigils on it, frowning slightly. He wants to study it, maybe take it back to the lab, ask the policewoman if it's possible to _catch_ some of the live music .... then he remembers.

Cecil. Picnic. Date. Carlos sighs, and forces himself to re-focus. If he breaks another date with Cecil because of science, well ... Carlos doesn't want to know what will happen.

He lets the policewoman out, dodging her badge's tiny, lethal claws and props the bat by the picnic basket on the table. He bites at his lower lip unconsciously as he stares at the bat, before compromising and texting Bex, who's covering the lab this weekend.

"I've added a few things to your basket," the faceless old woman who secretly lives in his house (in everyone's house, as far as Carlos can tell) says- "Nothing much, just a bottle of wine from John Peters - you know, the farmer - and some of old woman Josie's potato salad. Oh, and I’ve replaced all of your CDs with new music, and also your books."

"Er, thanks," Carlos says, not quite able to get used to her presence. She merely turns around and goes and stands by the fridge again. He glances at his bookcase, and the covers look the same, but he knows from experience that that doesn’t really mean anything.

"There's a couple of other things in the bottom of the basket that you might need later. And a blanket. Enjoy the concert."

Carlos wonders what the other things could be, but decides against asking. He says thanks again, feeling awkward, and departs for Grove Park with the basket in one hand, and the bat in the other.

Most of Night Vale seems to be heading there, and he nods vaguely at a few people, including the radio station's latest intern, who's staring at the bat one of the sheriff's secret police has just handed him like it's going to catch fire in his hands.

Carlos shifts his shoulders and very carefully doesn't think about the shape in Grove Park, instead focusing on Cecil and, he hopes, a good night out.

The stage is set up when Carlos arrives at the park, and there's a grand piano in the centre of it. The stage is surrounded by members of the sheriff's secret police and he can hear the oddly reassuring hum of helicopters above him. He decides not to look up to see what colour they are. 

He waves at Tamika, who’s whirling her bat around expertly and eyeing the piano with a distinctly unfriendly glare. 

Carlos feels a small surge of sympathy for whatever the live music might unleash, but then his thoughts dissipate again, when he sees Cecil waving to him from under the spreading branches of a large tree on top of a small rise. 

Carlos makes his way to Cecil and stops in front of him, bat and basket forgotten.

“Hi,” he says softly, not even trying to keep the grin off his face.

“Hi yourself,” Cecil says back, leaning forward to give Carlos a small kiss on the side of his mouth.

“I brought a picnic,” Carlos says, busying himself with the basket, spreading out the blanket and carefully setting his bat down in one corner.

“I thought we could eat while - mmmph -”

“Sorry,” Cecil says when he breaks the much more _thorough_ kiss. “I just - wanted to say hello properly.”

“Well.” Carlos reaches up and touches his lips that he swears are _tingling_ and smiles around his fingers. “You don’t need to say sorry about that.”

He turns his attention back to the basket, aware of Cecil stretching out on the blanket, his face set alight by the lowering sun.

The sun is, of course, setting at the wrong time of day, but Carlos is getting used to that now, he thinks.

He sees that Cecil has his own bat at his side, and it looks far more pitted and worn than Carlos’s smooth new weapon. 

Carlos stares at it for a moment, then decides that this is one of the things he doesn’t need to know about. 

“They’re from here,” Cecil says, as someone sits down at the piano on the stage. “Left a few years ago. Night Vale doesn’t usually go in for live concerts, but we make an exception once in a while.”

Carlos nods vaguely to show he’s listening as he starts digging through the picnic basket, laying out containers of food, plates, glasses and the bottle of wine.

His fingers brush up against the other things that the faceless old woman had tucked in there and he immediately feels his ears go red as the first strains of music wash over the now-settled audience.

Cecil props himself up and peers into the basket, laughing softly when he sees what’s made Carlos’s ears turn so red.

“I um. I didn’t put those there.” Carlos frowns down at the offending items, poking suspiciously at the bottle and small box in the bottom of the basket.

Cecil moulds himself to Carlos’s back, pressing a small kiss to the back of his neck.

“Did you fill out the form?”

Cecil’s voice is a deep, soothing rumble against his skin and Carlos sighs, closing his eyes. 

“I did,” he says as Cecil moves to open the bottle of wine, watching Tamika as she races past wielding her baseball bat like a broadsword and smashing music notes into smithereens.

Cecil watches as she turns and runs down the slope again, yelling and turns to Carlos to say, “She’s got a big future in Night Vale.”

Carlos just nods as he glances up at the stage, digging into old woman Josie’s potato salad as a troupe of Eternal Scouts rush by, on the trail of a particularly complex set of notes that have come unmoored from the secret police’s station near the stage.

“It’s inevitable with live music,” Cecil says, tipping his head back to the sky. “Notes escape, and if you get a cluster of them, they can go a bit feral.”

Carlos says nothing, just tucks himself close into Cecil’s side, and tries to enjoy what he can of the concert. He recognises the movement that’s playing, he thinks - it sounds a little bit like Mozart, but then he’ll catch things in the music; turns that he doesn’t expect which sends little jolts through him every time.

He glances at Cecil, but Cecil is just watching the stage, and the scouts and the police running around corralling the notes. 

The sky fades out to grey, then black, as the performance continues. Spotlights set among the trees come on, flooding the area with stark, white light.

Carlos looks up instinctively, but can’t see the sky any more. He sighs at that, because stargazing has been a favourite past time of his since his abuela used to take him out on the roof of their house on clear nights and point out the constellations.

Not being able to see the sky - even the void of sky over Night Vale - is something Carlos finds unsettling. He pushes against Cecil and sighs softly as a troop of scouts brings down a particularly complex series of notes and smash them thoroughly with their bats.

“All right,” Cecil asks, his voice soft right against Carlos’s ear. 

“Mmmhmm. I’m just not used to not being able to see the sky. Those lights ….”

Cecil curls an arm around Carlos’s waist and waits until the scouts have moved away before speaking softly again, his voice a soothing undercurrent to the now crashing crescendos of the music being played on the stage.

“They’ll be gone in an hour or so. They’re just there so people can see the notes when they try to escape. Then, if you like, we can stay back, do a bit of void-gazing ..”

Carlos turns his head so he can give Cecil a quick, warm kiss.

“Void-gazing. Do you know how long it took me to get used to not seeing the constellations where I expected them to be?”

“Yes, you kept telling me. Calling me at 2am to tell me, you’re lucky I don’t need much sleep.”

Carlos grins at that and sighs as he feels Cecil’s hand running through his hair. He shamelessly leans into it and closes his eyes against the bright lights, everything fading into the background of Cecil’s fingers working through his hair.

“Hey.” Cecil stops his stroking and pokes Carlos in the shoulder. “Hey, don’t go to sleep on me, what kind of a date night is that?”

Carlos sighs, and reluctantly blinks his eyes open. 

“Sorry. You know that makes me sleepy.”

“You love it, though,” Cecil says, letting his fingers wander back into Carlos’s hair, even as he pokes at Carlos’s shoulder again with his free hand.

Carlos twitches away slightly, letting out a breathless laugh when Cecil tangles his fingers in the thick strands of his hair and pulls, just slightly too hard.

Carlos bites his lip to stop a too-loud moan escaping before he opens his eyes and sees that - despite the glaring lights and the roaming secret police and scouts, they’re essentially alone.

He feels Cecil smile against his neck before pressing small, warm kisses against his pulse and Carlos sighs, sinking easily into Cecil’s touch, letting the noise of the concert and the periodic smashing of live notes fade out behind him.

He’s not aware of much else after that, except for Cecil’s gently roaming hands, and the quiet rumble of his voice in Carlos’s ear, and before Carlos knows it, the bright lights are switched off and there’s the quiet murmur of people leaving the park.

He’s on his back on the blanket now; Cecil bracketed between his legs. Cecil is doing these slow, lazy rolls with his hips that have Carlos alternating between biting down on his own bottom lip and sucking deep bruises into Cecil’s neck.

“Do you, ah, do you want - to stay here, or should we, uh, go back to. To yours?”

Carlos tightens his legs around Cecil’s hips and slides his hands under Cecil’s shirt, letting his fingers dance over the bones of his spine.

“Stay here then,” Cecil says, grinning before leaning down to bite at Carlos’s bottom lip.

Carlos stares up into the black of the void, his hands curled around the warm skin of Cecil’s hips, their clothes now in an untidy bundle on the blanket beside them.

He closes his eyes for a moment; giving in to the nearly overwhelming feeling of Cecil’s skin sliding against his own, the whisper of it sounding like the hush of silk in the dark.

Carlos opens his eyes to find Cecil looking down at him, the black of the void reflected in his eyes, creating shadows that Carlos knows aren’t really there. He should be scared, he supposes, as he tightens his hands on Cecil’s hips, letting tiny, tight gasps fall out of his mouth as he reaches his peak, nothing in his head but white noise, before everything shatters and comes back together with Cecil’s hands solid on his hips and his mouth on Carlos’s neck.

Carlos lets his eyes roam the void again, as they both come back down, blinking up at the uncompromising black sky and smiling when he realises that - finally - he feels like he’s home.


End file.
